Flow Open
by Endrance
Summary: Kuja's transformed into a monster. Zidane's overwhelmed by his strength.


Kuja leaned over the smaller blonde male, watching the fear in his widening eyes. He held Zidane down with an inhumanly strong grip. Fangs gleamed from the corners of his mouth as he began to salivate, his grip tightening around the boy's shoulder.

"Ah, my Angel of Death..." He cooed poetically. "Who will be your Reaper?" He brushed a stray lock of golden hair out of Zidane's eyes, the wickedly sadistic grin growing as the boy began to struggle under him.

Zidane was squirming valiantly. He was beaten soundly by the silver-maned male moments before, tail thrashing as he attempted to Trance again...but he felt the grip threaten to break his shoulder if he tried to repeat the endeavor. "Ngh!"

He didn't want to watch this...this evil other try to glean attention and fear, clenching his eyes shut as much as this was affecting him. Ah, but there wasn't another thought as Kuja wasn't letting up... His eyes shot open again, the blue eyes pleading for some way of being saved, a brief look of despair flashing over his features as he TRIPLED his efforts to get free... without Trance it would be harder than hell... "L-let me go...now..." He spat out in a pained way.

Kuja's smile brightened, as the boy's reactions became more desperate. Holding Zidane with just one hand, he pinned both of the boy's arms, using his free hand to stroke the boy's exposed neck. His painted fingernails raked across the warm flesh, drawing tiny lines of blood.

"Angel of Death, or little rabbit? His attempts to escape are futile, nonetheless." Instead of talking at Zidane directly, he ignored him as if he were an animal, who couldn't understand the tongue in which he spoke. Instead he spoke as if addressing a large audience. Now he bent down, sensually running his tongue along the lines of drawn blood. "Little rabbit's blood is like a narcotic to me." He said in his theatrical, dramatic voice.

Zidane was dreading the thought of discovering what kind of drugs Kuja had to be on to enjoy this kind of torturous teasing. "Ah!" His hands were trapped! He just would not admit defeat... That was to give the other what he wanted most... But still, what kind of deluded individual was the other – acting like the sanguine liquid he drew was an obvious addiction?! "Y-you're sick..."

He started, trying to distract Kuja, whom was preying on him, by means of trying to extend the monologue. "Wh-what are you; a monster…?" He said a bit sourly, to the other, the cold tongue nearly educing a moan, battling the urge to produce any sounds of helplessness.

Kuja looked into the powdered azure eyes as his gaze curiously studied the other's pained features. "Monster? Not me." He uttered facetiously, tenderly stroking Zidane's chest. He reduced the amount of pressure he was restraining the blonde Genome with; his violet-silver hair fell against the teen's lips as the older man lowered his head. "I only take what is stolen from me. You were the perfect me, the better Angel. My life was finite, and now so shall be yours."

He bowed so that his lips were against the flesh which radiated heat, once again, breathing in deeply as he took the scents of the other into himself. It was a struggle not to tear into the other's throat and drain him until his heart had nothing to pump. Kuja curbed his carnal hunger, prolonging the emotions he incurred from the pulsing warmth against his lips.

A whimper eluded the teen's lips. The sea-green depths of Kuja's eyes were filled with petty animosity... His own features were alighting with hope as he bucked and attempted to knee the other in the thong – only to learn the HARD way that it was made of metal. "Nnh!" Stifled curses muttered under his breath as he recoiled from his vain effort to free himself, if only for the one over his self not be fazed in the slightest!

"Tch," Zidane shook the hair away from his lips, "here you say, stolen! But...what in the name of anything, did I do to bring about your 'fall from grace'?!" They had reached a stalemate, and he might've pushed the other too far to spare he and his allies' lives... "I-if you only wanted to get at me; then let my friends go, Kuja..." Begging? Yes – Zidane was.

Kuja's laugh rose in great trembles as he heard the pleading tone of the boy's voice. "No more shall I be second to you." The rise and fall of his laughs echoed through the halls of his castle. He felt a surge of delight at the boy's submissive nature. He finally felt substantially stronger than his counterpart.

"No more…" He whispered, now pressing his teeth against the throat, feeling the panic rush through the other's body. He bore his canines into the throat's tissue until he felt the blistering hot liquid flow into his mouth and down his throat. Groaning in between gulps, the intimate experience was consuming his normally cool logic.

Icy terror flooded Zidane's senses...to Trance right now would give him a bit more time to act... yet at what cost? One thing was certain – he wasn't the one to be going down without a full fight! He tried, though, it made him so very dizzy even with the assistance of the enveloping hidden power, to shove the other away by his knees...

"Aah!" A strangled cry resounded in the air, as the sheer pain brought him away from the Trance. He...was slipping against the rough sucking...stopping to gasp for a breath… it was mostly coming in pants and at a shallow pace... Despairing, even...? But then a wave of pleasure hit him, a surprised gasp escaping his throat.

Kuja's own panic threatened to rise up from his chest as he realized Zidane's heart was beating slower, his breaths growing shorter and more labored. Death was devouring his "sibling", which was what he desired, wasn't it? No, not anymore, he didn't want Zidane to cease from being. Just as he felt the last beats of the boy's heart, he tore himself away, panting, a string of saliva and blood hanging from his tongue. "No more..." He repeated, bracing himself against the ground as his head spun. The euphoric glow of fresh blood pulsed through himself, this strange feeling reminded him of sexual climax.

His respirations were heaving pants, and if his heart could still beat, he was sure it would explode out of his breast.

In the back of his mind, Zidane had known all along what Kuja was, his assumptions of this fiendish monstrosity were indeed not far off. Yet the more he thought, the less he found himself able to concentrate on things that would've normally made sense to him. Why did he feel like he was about to combust, if he was simply dying?

"...Nnghh..." And his tail was quaking as he saw the dimming image of Kuja pull away... Did he just hear the other moan lavishly? Hell, if the other's head was spinning, he himself felt like he was to break like a finely made doll of glass... It would just have to end like this, huh? Yet...it did not feel like death. He felt like he was dead already, and the only thing that convinced him otherwise was the throbbing reminder of severe pain that afflicted him.

With a shuddering sigh, Kuja felt the one under him fall into an involuntary slumber. He carried the limp, unconscious body up the winding stairs of his castle, careful not to injure his captive any further. He supported the blonde's head with a careful hand, his other arm locked underneath his legs. He passed several doorways as he climbed the stairs until he reached the doorway to an unused bedroom. This bedroom wasn't his personally, and it had never been used, but this didn't deter him from entering as if it were familiar to him. With measured delicate movements, he placed the boy on the noir sheets, the fine-spun texture brushing against his bare arms.

The gentle breaths escaped from Zidane's mouth as he slumbered, eliciting a content sigh from Kuja. He concentrated, struggling to listen carefully, but there was an absence of heartbeat in the room, which made his returning anxiety burn more brilliantly in his chest. He had produced inside Zidane a monster just like himself.

Zidane was reminded of an old Gaian saying, "If one man is to break another's humanity, would it plunge them both into absolute despair?" Somehow, conscious or not – human or not, there was a small part of him that found solace in the fact that his friends were most likely better off, emotionally, and physically. He felt himself vaguely being placed onto some bed with fine silk or evenly spun linens… Yet he did not yet want to get up and tell the others what had happened, he didn't want them to know that they'd be better off never seeing him again.

He felt as if someone had plunged a dagger into his heart, pain ebbed away to be replaced by a verily dull awareness; eyes snapping open, an empty rage filling his senses, as if to get a loose grip on his own sanity. The feelings and images fell back into place in his memory, piece-by-piece. He'd been stupid for trying in the mostly heated moment to take on Kuja alone…hastening to fight him without thinking, aggressions fueled by a bitter resolve...that didn't seem like him. He shouldn't have shut out his friends, and normally, he wouldn't think of it. But when it came to Kuja, things were always different.


End file.
